


Unfettered

by theLiterator



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Bloodplay, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to the fic_promptly prompt: Author's choice, Author's choice, bloodplay. Zevran/Mage Warden; blood magic, very short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfettered

The thing about freedom, Zevran has learned, is that it cannot exist.

Everyone owes someone something, or is owed (which is its own sort of slavery).

The mage has a silver knife, sharp, wicked, used only for one thing.

Zevran has knowledge of blood and the things one can do to another person with a knife.

He has no knowledge of this-- has no experience with stealing blood (taking what is owed) to better oneself. When Zevran spills blood, it is wasted.

When the mage spills blood, every drop is used, lapped up, smeared over skin in intricate patterns.

Every cut across his skin stings and burns and makes Zevran somehow less and somehow more, and Zevran can't help but think that this, this is the only way it can be.

It is subtler than whips, gentler than torture.

Blood eases his entry, and Zevran understands the connection it brings about, relaxes into it.

As much as the lyrium stained blood ties Zevran to the mage, the mage is tied to Zevran. It is more equality than he has ever experienced in his life, and he burns with it.

In the mornings, Zevran dresses his own wounds and the mage pretends he is nothing, that they are all nothing.

But the edges of a cut will pull when Zevran dons his armor, and he knows otherwise.


End file.
